Fool's Mistake
by Tanydwr
Summary: First attempt at a oneshot. Harry pushed everyone who loved him away to protect them from Voldemort. It worked, but now he's paying the consequences... HHr


Disclaimer: I wrote the story, but the people aren't mine... Unfortunately... Oh yeah, the song isn't either... Shoot...  
  
**Fool's mistake**

**By Tanydwr  
**  
He was a fool. An idiot, an imbecile, a half-wit.  
  
His ploy had worked. Voldemort had not attacked those he loved, because he believed that Harry no longer loved them. He believed it meant he could not hurt them through association with him. And Harry had gone on, fuelled by his love of others, to defeat Voldemort.  
  
Unfortunately, his charade had been a little to convincing.  
  
And everyone he loved had left him.  
  
True, when he had woken from his coma, his room had been flooding with gifts and thanks from witches and wizards across the world.  
  
But none from anyone who mattered.  
  
And so began the Man Who Conquered's new life.  
  
The one where no one he loved was in it.  
  
Few knew his act to force them away from him had been an act. Only a few, namely his old teachers, knew the truth.  
  
But they were his teachers. Not his friends. Not his family.  
  
He had pushed them away to protect them. And it had worked.  
  
But he had forgotten to protect himself.  
  
# # #  
  
"What can I get for you, Mr Potter?" Rosmerta the landlady asked as the young man entered the Three Broomsticks.  
  
He didn't look good, she could tell. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, bags under his eyes betrayed sleeplessness and his face was haggard. She didn't know for certain what was wrong with him. But she could guess. She knew more about the students than she had let on, and she had swiftly identified the change in Harry Potter between his fifth and sixth years. He never entered with his friends. She figured he had pushed them away, and he was now paying the price.  
  
"Firewhisky, straight." He told her, sitting at the bar.  
  
"Are you sure? If you haven't eaten..."  
  
"I'm sure. Just give me the Goddamn drink." He ordered.  
  
She obeyed, and went to her other customers, but not without sending fear- filled glances his way.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, was concentrating on the fiery liquid he was intent on pouring down his throat. It burned his throat and stomach, but he didn't care. He was just glad for something that distracted him from the pain he had in his heart. He'd lost the closest thing to a family when he shut out the Weasleys. The last link to his parents when he ignored Remus. His best friend when he yelled at Ron. And the one who held his heart firmly in her hands, though she didn't know it, when he'd screamed at Hermione. He'd yelled at them, insulted them, said things he never meant in the case to distance himself from him. He wasn't going to let any of them get hurt in Voldemort's battle to kill him. Because before Voldemort attacked the wizarding world, he was going to get Harry first. The only one with the power to defeat him. The one marked as his equal.  
  
_'Neither can live while the other survives...'_ Harry gave a bitter laugh at that phrase. He'd survived. He'd defeated Voldemort, lived through the encounter, despite being in a coma for a week because he depleted most of his magical stores. But now, when he was free to live... He couldn't. Because he'd destroyed himself in the battle against Voldemort. To keep his friends and loved ones safe, he'd destroyed his own life.  
  
He called for his second Firewhisky. Rosmerta was again wary about handing it to him, but hadn't any choice. He wasn't at the limit yet and she had no precedence to deny him the drink.  
  
# # #  
  
This became Harry's nightly ritual. Enter the pub, have a number of glasses of Firewhisky, leave. It seemed like he had nothing else to do. Once in a while, Rosmerta managed to pry a few words from him, but he was as tight-lipped as an Unspeakable most of the time. She was starting to wonder if he wasn't one.  
  
Eventually it got to the point where she couldn't bear to see this anymore, and she went to the one person she could think of.  
  
Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Albus, I know this overstepping my mark, and probably going against all the duties of a landlady, but I have to tell someone." She told him.  
  
"What is it, Rosmerta?" Albus asked, looking concerned as to why she would come to him.  
  
"Harry." She said simply.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"What about him? He comes into my pub every night, that's what! He drinks anywhere between two and ten glasses of Firewhisky and departs! It's a wonder he can still live after consuming that much, let alone walk! He's as quiet as an Unspeakable, and never lets anything go! All I can tell is that he's depressed and alone! Albus, if you don't do something soon, the Man Who Conquered is soon going to be that Man Who Committed _Suicide_!" She ranted, worried. "I can't see a young man of that talent go to waste! I don't know what he did to lose his friends and family, but whatever it was, it's tearing him up inside! He may have fought for the wizarding world, or those he loves, or even revenge, but whatever the case, he doesn't have the love of those who truly knew him and it's _killing _him!"  
  
There was a pregnant pause.  
  
Then something shattered outside the door to Dumbledore's office. There was a scream and then a number of thuds.  
  
Rosmerta and Dumbledore raced from the room to the bottom of the moving staircase where they found Hermione Granger at the foot with blood pouring from a head wound.  
  
# # #  
  
Hermione spoke the password and headed up to Dumbledore's office. She was about to knock on the door, but she heard the voice of Madam Rosmerta speaking. Wondering what on Earth the landlady of the Three Broomsticks had to say to Dumbledore, she pressed her ear to the door.  
  
"...drinks anywhere between two and ten glasses of Firewhisky and departs! It's a wonder he can still live after consuming that much, let alone walk!" Hermione frowned. Why on Earth would Rosmerta be discussing a patron with Dumbledore? "He's as quiet as an Unspeakable, and never lets anything go! All I can tell is that he's depressed and alone! Albus, if you don't do something soon, the Man Who Conquered is soon going to be that Man Who Committed _Suicide_!" Hermione bit back a gasp. _'Harry? Why would Harry want to commit suicide?'_ "I can't see a young man of that talent go to waste! I don't know what he did to lose his friends and family, but whatever it was, it's tearing him up inside! He may have fought for the wizarding world, or those he loves, or even revenge, but whatever the case, he doesn't have the love of those who truly knew him and it's _killing _him!"  
  
Hermione choked and stumbled back. What was happening? After all Harry said, why would the lack of their presence or their love kill him?  
  
_'Unless, oh God, Harry, you didn't!'_ She cried silently. _'You fool! You idiot! You made us hate you! You made us hate you in order to save us! Why? Why do that to us? To me? You broke my heart!'  
_  
Hermione spun to march down the stairs, but her bag caught a vase. She spun again to catch it and lost her footing on the stairs.  
  
"Argh!" She screamed as she fell down the curving stairs.  
  
She hated heights, stairs weren't bad, but this... She felt her body being battered and bruised before she landed on her head. She noted the sickening crunch of her skull before she faded into black oblivion...  
  
# # #  
  
Harry sat at the bar and ordered his usual Firewhisky. He was looking even more bedraggled than usual, and he doubted anyone would recognise him as the Boy Who Lived or the Man Who Conquered now.  
  
But his ears still picked up things. Like names.  
  
"Poor girl. She's in the hospital wing now. I was talking to Dumbledore about a wayward student when we heard a crash and a scream. She'd knocked over a vase and must've lost her footing on the stairs. Fell down them. Nasty head-wound. Poppy doesn't know when she'll wake up." Madam Rosmerta was telling someone.  
  
"Who was it?" The person asked.  
  
"One of last year's graduates. Bright girl, so polite. Hermione Granger, her name is."  
  
The glass in Harry's hand shattered to the floor as he lurched forward and grabbed Rosmerta's arm.  
  
"Hermione?" He rasped, his voice out of practise. "She's hurt? She's in danger?"  
  
It was terrible to see the fear and the desperation in the poor boy's green eyes, made all the more evident by the lack of glasses (he wore contacts). She nodded. "Nasty fall down the stairs from the Headmaster's office."  
  
"No, no, no." Harry moaned, his head sinking in his hands, sobs wrenching his throat.  
  
"She's in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. They didn't want to move her. It's not far, why don't you go and see her?" Rosmerta suggested.  
  
"No. No, they wouldn't want that. I hurt her, I hurt them all, they'll kill me on sight." Harry shook his head furiously.  
  
"Surely they won't kill you! You're the hero of the wizarding world!" Rosmerta laughed.  
  
"Depends on the death..." He murmured. "There's things people can do where they kill you, but your body lives on. You die a little each day. And the worst is when it's your fault."  
  
"You didn't push her down those stairs. Go and see her. If only for you to accept it's not your fault." Rosmerta ordered.  
  
Harry left, somewhat reluctantly, since she practically threw him out.  
  
Outside, the rain began to fall, a pathetic fallacy of Harry's desperate emotions. Tears on his face mingled with the rain smattering it. How had he been so stupid? His desertion of his loved ones had protected them, but at what cost? That he wouldn't be welcomed by them? That he couldn't even check on one of them when they were hurt for fear of the others.  
  
"I was a fool to believe." Harry murmured painfully.  
  
He shouldn't be feeling like this. Not at just eighteen. Eighteen had been like his old birthdays. In that there was no one there who responded. No one at all. No one who cared or understood. Neville had enjoyed his birthday. Neville had received presents from those he loved, and some he disliked. He disliked Harry. But he had still received a present anonymously from him. A fine tawny owl as a matter of fact. Named Alice, for his mother. Neville had never known how close he had been to being the one of the prophecy. Or had even had a chance at all? Was the prophecy definitely about Harry? Harry didn't know. No one did.  
  
But he had shouldered his destiny. He had marched up to it and punched it in the face. Voldemort, that is. His destiny to kill him. It hadn't taken much. The Sword of Gryffindor, the rubies filled with a power Voldemort didn't – couldn't – understand. Love.  
  
Someone once said that the measurement of love isn't in how much we love, but in how much we are loved by others. At that point, few loved Harry at all, if any, for he had become so alone, so cold, so angry, that he had caused those who once loved him to desert him. It was lucky for Harry that he smashed that theory.  
  
But still, the Queen song came to him. In fact, it had been a theme song for what he had been doing. Unwittingly, he began to sing it.  
  
"_Empty spaces – what are we living for  
  
Abandoned places – I guess we know the score  
  
On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for...  
  
Another hero, another mindless crime  
  
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime  
  
Hold the line, does anybody want to take it anymore  
  
The show must go on,  
  
The show must go on  
  
Inside my heart is breaking  
  
My make-up may be flaking  
  
But my smile still stays on.  
  
Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance  
  
Another heartache, another failed romance  
  
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?  
  
I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now  
  
I'll soon be turning, round the corner now  
  
Outside the dawn is breaking  
  
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free  
  
The show must go on  
  
The show must go on  
  
Inside my heart is breaking  
  
My make-up may be flaking  
  
But my smile still stays on  
  
My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies  
  
Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die  
  
I can fly – my friends  
  
The show must go on  
  
The show must go on  
  
I'll face it with a grin  
  
I'm never giving in  
  
On – with the show  
  
I'll top the bill, I'll overkill  
  
I have to find the will to carry on  
  
On with the...  
  
On with the...  
  
On with the show!  
  
The show must go on..."  
_  
He didn't know that his words were caught by magic and his voice sang through Hogwarts School. In every classroom, in the hospital wing, his single voice was heard to sing.  
  
And then he sank to his knees, begging for lightning, begging for the storm to bring forth it's deadly arrow to attack him.  
  
"Lightning kill me! 'Cause all I bring is pain! Please strike me down! I'll not hurt them again!" His voice rang with the same notes of the song as he yelled.  
  
And Hogwarts heard his words.  
  
"I survived him, only to have destroyed my life. Lost my loved ones, and caused them endless strife." He didn't know he was rhyming his words, singing to the same tune of the song, begging to leave life.  
  
And he walked away, into the one place he could not survive. Guilt was riddling him. No one knew what had happened in the final confrontation. What Voldemort had done to him. Just that he had been in a coma. And no one realised what destroying Voldemort had meant to him. What it left his life with. No purpose. And a lost family.  
  
The lake's waters were icy cold as he swam into the centre. But he didn't care. Not any more. He couldn't care. Didn't care as it froze his joints. Didn't care as the barely liquid water flooded his mouth and nose, seeping into his throat, burning his insides as though he was swallowing pieces of heated gravel. Didn't care as oxygen seeped from his body. Didn't care as his mind shut down and he drowned.  
  
All he wanted was be freed of the guilt of knowing he had helped ruin every life that touched his.  
  
Didn't care if he had to go to hell to do it.  
  
# # #  
  
"Madam Pomfrey! Found 'im in the lake!" Hagrid's voice boomed through the Hospital Wing, startling a reaction from the number of people beside Hermione's bedside. They looked up to see a damp Hagrid holding a figure that was bedraggled and soaked. Not to mention alarmingly pale.  
  
"What?! How did anyone get into the lake? What happened?" She demanded, crossing over to the bed where Hagrid had placed him. She noted with a jolt that it was the bed Harry had always ended up in, but did not think of it.  
  
"I dunno. He was a fair way in. Saw the squid gesturin' an' I wen' out t' check. I don' think 'h was swimmin'." Hagrid told her.  
  
"Well of course he wouldn't be swimming! Not in this weather!" Madam Pomfrey scowled as she performed drying and heating charms on the figure. She failed to realise what Hagrid had meant.  
  
"No, I mean I don' think 'e wanted to. 'E was in th' lake for a reason. An' it weren't swimmin'."  
  
Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened in horror and she looked at the person in the bed. "You don't mean..."  
  
"I think 'e was after dyin' quietly without the mess." Hagrid told her quietly.  
  
Her eyes widened again, and she brushed aside some strands of the over- long, ragged hair to find a lightning bolt scar. She then did something very uncharacteristic.  
  
"Shit." Then: "Hagrid, get the headmaster." Saw him hesitating. "NOW!"  
  
She proceeded in trying to revive the young man while the vigil at Hermione's bedside watched in fear and shock. Who would want to kill themself?"  
  
"You fool!" She scowled, checking his vital signs. There was a faint, fait pulse, barely there. Hagrid must've got him only a minute or two after he stopped breathing. Unless he began resuscitation at the lake. "You get through all those battles..." She grabbed an item that looked very much like a Muggle breathing apparatus. "All those fights to the death..." She scowled. "All those duels..." She whacked his chest to boost his heart rate. "Without losing breath." She groaned, there had been too much singing. It must've been him. What had driven him to this? "And now you've succeeded..." She snarled. "Where others failed... By killing yourself!"  
  
Dumbledore entered looking worried. "Poppy, what is it?"  
  
"I told you he was going to end up here, Dumbledore!" She yelled, fighting to save the boy's life. "Of all the stupid plans either of you had, this was the worst! He tried to _kill_ himself, Dumbledore! Commit suicide! And he's been drinking! Only one Firewhisky tonight, but he's drunk so much in the last month I'm surprised his blood isn't made up of it! Rosmerta should never have served him that much!"  
  
"I don't think she had much choice. She came to see me about it. We should never have let him go through with it." Dumbledore told her gravely.  
  
Poppy finally got him breathing, but not by much. The water was removed from his lungs, but he was suffering severe hypothermia despite the heating charms. And he wouldn't wake up.  
  
"Hagrid, did you have to resuscitate him?" Madam Pomfrey asked.  
  
Hagrid nodded. "Didn' get much tho'. Just go' a pulse, brought 'im t'yeh. S'e gonna be alrigh'?" He asked, worriedly.  
  
"I don't know. If his brain stopped functioning and was starved of oxygen for long enough, he may have some brain damage. I can't cope with two of them, Albus! Not if Miss Granger's suffered more than a blow to the head!" Poppy wailed. Then stopped and looked at the headmaster sharply. "Miss Granger. Did he hear about her?"  
  
"I don't know, Poppy. He may have done. After all, Rosmerta was there when it happened –"

"You let him know she was hurt? After what he did to him! He pushed away everyone he loves, Albus! And you let him! They're alive, but he may soon not be! And you let him know that the person he hurt the most, that it hurt him the most to leave, is hurt?! Voldemort made sure that everything that happened to them that hurt them made him guilty. You know the curse as well as I do! Why didn't you warn him? Why didn't you help him mend the bonds that you let him break?" Poppy raged.  
  
Albus was taken aback. He didn't realise that Harry had meant that much to the matron. But Poppy did have her favourites, and she had been a great friend of Lily's at school, helping her learn Healing as a trade... She had always helped Harry, no matter how stern she was, and in the last few years she had become closer to the poor boy...  
  
Finally, one of the people beside Hermione's bed broke the silence.  
  
"Who is he?" Ron Weasley asked, not recognising the boy he had once seen as a brother.  
  
"What on Earth..." Poppy began. Then her eyes darkened. They shouldn't have let him break the relationships. "Out. I need to tend my patients."  
  
"But..."  
  
"OUT! All of you! You too, Headmaster! It's your fault he's here! You didn't watch him, didn't help him in his recovery!" Poppy ordered.  
  
"Really, Poppy..."  
  
"OUT OF MY INFIRMARY!"  
  
The group surrounding Hermione's bed (the Weasleys, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and Luna), shuffled out, looking confused about the identity of the man in the bed. All they saw was the sign of unkemptness. A bedraggled beard, unkept, from lack of shaving rather than design. Longish, messy, somewhat greasy hair. Pale, sallowed skin. A haggard face and a scent of Firewhisky lingering about the clothes that lay at the end of the bed, while the figure lay in a hospital gown. He was broad-shouldered, but thin from lack of food.  
  
They left slowly, one by one, the headmaster in the lead. Hagrid bowed his head, tears in his eyes.  
  
Ron frowned, one of the last to leave. Who could incite such a reaction from Hagrid? A curse from Voldemort to feel guilty about every bad thing that happens to those he left? Who would Voldemort curse like that? Who would guilt themselves about such things? Who would Madam Pomfrey be so protective of? How did he know the headmaster? What plan?  
  
And then it clicked.  
  
"Merlin, no!" He gasped.  
  
Before Madam Pomfrey could stop him, he ran to the stranger's bed and lifted his fringe. His throat went dry as he processed what had happened.  
  
"Harry. Harry pushed us away to protect us. And lost us. And he's tried to kill himself because of guilt. Guilt we could have alleviated." He groaned and sunk to the ground, head in hands.  
  
Mrs Weasley shrieked, the twins paled, Ginny felt tears spring to his eyes.  
  
"And we let him." Ron finished.  
  
"Out." Madam Pomfrey ordered.  
  
"I'm sorry." Ron told him. "For you and Hermione."  
  
# # #  
  
A couple of days later, Hermione awoke from her unconsciousness. She had a headache, but nothing else severe. Her dream flooded to her.  
  
"Harry?" She asked.  
  
"Oh, dear, thank goodness you're awake." Poppy began to fuss.  
  
"Harry! Where is he? I've got to apologise, to make him understand he's needed! Why did he do that?! He's just hurt himself! He shouldn't have deserted us! Me! I love him! Where is he?! Is he alright? Is he safe?! Please say he hasn't done something!" Hermione shouted hysterically, remembering what she had heard just before the accident.  
  
"Calm down. Harry is... alive." Madam Pomfrey replied tentatively. "You had quite a bang to the head. Just a few tests and then I'll let the others in." She told her soothingly.  
  
As Madam Pomfrey tested her, Hermione reiterated her questions about Harry. The matron's evasiveness only told her that something had happened.  
  
"What happened?" Hermione asked.  
  
Madam Pomfrey just sighed and pulled the charmed curtain away. "He's here."  
  
Hermione looked over to see a figure in a bed. An IV tube of sorts entered his hand and then there was a tube going to his nose to ensure oxygen got into his lungs. The IV was originally magical to ensure potions entered the bloodstream correctly. The tube was an adapted Muggle invention.  
  
Hermione gasped. "What happened?"  
  
"He drowned himself. Hagrid and I resuscitated him, but he's not woken up. His brain was starved of oxygen for a while. He may have had brain damage." Madam Pomfrey told her.  
  
"Oh, Harry..."  
  
# # #  
  
Three weeks later, Hermione was visiting Harry again in the hospital wing. Everyone had expressed their horror at what Harry had done in order to protect them, and what he had tried to do to himself. Remus was consumed by guilt. He should have known, he should have stopped him, he should have realised the ploy... The 'should haves' went on and on. He had practically remained vigil at Harry's bedside.  
  
It was one rare moment when Remus was not there, that Hermione entered. Madam Pomfrey was in her office. Hermione had a bunch of flowers to renew the present flowers in the vase beside his bed. Then she sat by his bedside and just talked. She talked about all sorts of things. Bill and Fleur's announcement that they were expecting a child. Ginny's latest boyfriend. Ron and Lavender's relationship. Anything innocuous and safe.  
  
"And Ron told me he's found a flat. Lavender and he might be moving in together, which means I'm going to have a problem with finding somewhere to live and... Harry?" She asked. His eyes fluttered. She gasped. "Harry, are you alright? Are you awake?"  
  
His eyes flew open. "Hermione?" He asked confused.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What are you doing here? You're not speaking to me. None of you are..." He frowned, then his eyes widened. "Voldemort? Is he dead? Truly? I did defeat him, right? He's dead?"  
  
"Yes, he's dead. Harry, you killed him over two months ago." Hermione told him.  
  
"What? I've been in a coma for two months?" He asked.  
  
"No, Harry, you were in a coma for a week. Then you woke up. Don't you remember waking up and everything?" She asked him.  
  
"Don't remember anything since the battle with Voldemort. He hit me with a last bit of magic as I got him with the sword..." Harry sighed wearily. "Why are you here? You weren't talking. None of you were. I made sure of that."  
  
"Harry, we found out about that plan. You've been in a coma for three weeks. You were awake for a little over a month." Hermione told him.  
  
"I was in a second coma? Why?"  
  
Luckily, Miss Granger was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey's clucks. "Miss Granger! You and Remus were allowed to stay under the proviso that you notified me immediately if his status changed!"  
  
"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey..."  
  
"Remus? Remus was here? Why was he here?" Harry asked, looking confused.  
  
"They all found out about your plan after you returned here, Harry." Poppy looked confused.  
  
"He's lost his memory since the battle of Voldemort." Hermione told her. "He doesn't remember anything after he killed Voldemort."  
  
"It damaged his memory brain cells." Madam Pomfrey mused.  
  
Hermione nodded agreeing.  
  
"Did anything important happen?" Harry asked. "Do I need those memories?"  
  
Hermione and Madam Pomfrey exchanged glances. "No, Harry. Nothing."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Nothing happened. Poppy, if we could have a moment?" Hermione asked.  
  
Loathe though she was to comply, Madam Pomfrey did so.  
  
"Harry, I have something I want to tell you." Hermione told him.  
  
"No, Mione, me first." Harry told her.  
  
Hermione gasped. It had been so long since she had heard the name Mione leave his tongue.  
  
"When I yelled at you, I didn't want to. Nothing I said was true. I don't hate you. You're not an insufferably, bossy know-it-all. And you're most certainly not ugly. It hurt me more than anything else to say that to you, but I had to keep you safe. You all safe. If Voldemort knew you that I no longer cared for you all, or you for me, he would not take you in order to harm me. You would be safe from him." Harry explained. He removed the tube from his nose. "The truth is, that for everything bad I said, everything I said I hated about you, the opposite is true. I love the way you always know what you're doing. I love the way you can take command. I love the way you always used to make sure we got all our answers in our essays. I think you're beautiful, not ugly. And I love you."  
  
It was simply said, sweet, happy. Hermione gasped.  
  
Harry took it wrong. "I understand if you don't feel the same way about me. I've been a bastard to everyone I care about to keep them safe, so I wouldn't blame you if you don't reciprocate my fee–"  
  
He was cut off as Hermione's lips touched his. The kiss was gentle, sweet, caressing, but it was returned. He sat up in bed and pulled her down for her to sit on the bed. The kiss deepened as previously unrequited love and passion began to flow forth.  
  
As did a bright, golden light like a spell being shattered inside Harry.  
  
"Harry! Hermione! What are you doing?" A shocked voice asked.  
  
They broke apart.  
  
"Oh, hey Remus." Hermione murmured shakily, wiping her mouth. "Er, Harry's awake."  
  
"I guessed that."  
  
"What happened between my defeating Voldemort and waking up now? Why am I in the hospital wing again?" Harry asked.  
  
"You don't know?" Remus asked.  
  
"I don't remember anything since battling Voldemort." Harry replied.  
  
"Brain damage, we think." Hermione explained.  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"Flare up of a curse Voldemort placed upon you. Made you feel guilty about every bad thing that happened to those you love, but forced to desert you." Remus glared at Harry.  
  
"Sorry, but it was to keep you all safe and..."  
  
"It worked, but that's not the point. Guilt consumed you, Harry. Too consumed. You tried to drown yourself in the lake." Remus told him.  
  
"I _WHAT_?!" Harry asked.  
  
"A result of the spell. You'd never have done it normally. Besides, Hermione just broke the spell." Remus shrugged.  
  
Hermione was surprised. "How?"  
  
"The kiss of true love." Remus grinned.  
  
"That's so fairy tale." Harry informed him.  
  
"Except the wrong way round. But I don't mind." Hermione smiled at Harry.  
  
This time he woke up, things were going to be different.  
  
"What triggered my suicide attempt?" Harry asked.  
  
"You made a fool's mistake." Hermione told him. "You were a fool."  
  
She smiled.  
  
"But you're my fool."  
  
# # #  
  
Okay, so that was my attempt at a one-shot. I know it's crap, but I'd love to hear opinions anyway. Way too long for a one-shot as well, but there you go. And I love that song, ever since I saw Moulin Rouge!  
  
Never mind. I'll try to write a less angsty, and shorter one-shot some other time.  
  
Lol, Tanydwr


End file.
